


Angron of Tarth, The Stormborn of Ice and Fire

by BrightIdea



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angron is Aegon, Battle, Horus Heresy Civil War (Warhammer 40.000), I love killing off the Mountain, Multi, Pre-Horus Heresy Civil War (Warhammer 40.000)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 20:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30111285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightIdea/pseuds/BrightIdea
Summary: Fate changes not just for Westeros but for the entire galaxy. The Twelfth Primarch, cast adrift in space by the Chaos Gods, lands on the shores of the Island of Tarth off the coast of Westeros. Adopted by House Tarth he grows quickly as Brienne's adoptive brother.When murder and war begin to shake the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon follows his sister into service of the would-be-king Renly Baratheon.He would have been the Lord of Red Sands in another life, now he will be a Storm King.Crossposted from SpaceBattles
Kudos: 13





	1. Brienne

**Brienne**  
 **  
295 AC  
  
Isle of Tarth**  
  
“I thought I’d find you here.” Selwyn Tarth called from behind as he approached his daughter. Brienne tore her gaze from the view of the far line of Westeros that sat across the Straits of Tarth to look back to her father as he dismounted his horse. She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood straighter along the cliff edge.  
  
“I won’t apologize, Father. He insulted my honor.” Brienne replied; her brow scowled at him – warning him if he should challenge her words.  
  
“There is no need, Brienne. Ser Wagstaff’s broken bones will heal but I doubt his pride will.” Selwyn smiled sadly at her and joined her on the cliffs looking out to Westeros. “I feel that I am failing you daughter.”  
  
“Why should you feel as such? Is it not I who failed you by not being a boy?” Brienne retorted, her face burning red, “Why don’t you have any more children? You have a new lady in your court every year!”  
  
“I cannot bear it” Selwyn winced and looked at his daughter with a sad smile, then looked to their home – the castle Evenfall further down the coast in the distance “After your brother drowned and your sisters died in their cradles…  
  
Brienne remembered their deaths, the grief of her father and the sadness that had taken her mother. That was why she had trained to become a knight though she knew she would be not accepted by the likes of men such as Ser Wagstaff but she did not make a fine later herself as she was not beautiful and ridiculed by the other women.  
  
“I have hoped to find a man who would accept you as a woman and a…warrior, but it seems my search has been for naught” Selwyn shook his head and placed a single hand on his daughter’s shoulder, “I’ll leave it to you to find a man who meets your fancy.”  
  
“T-thank you, Father” Brienne replied and looked away from him to hide her blush. There had been only one man who had been courteous to her, but that man was Lord Renly Baratheon and despite it being several years now since he had visited Tarth she still found herself dreaming of him. It had been a small thing his affection to her, but it had meant so much to Brienne that it still burned like a torch in her soul. She knew her chances of pairing with Renly were small and distant, but perhaps if she lived up to the ideal of knighthood, she would have her chance like in the old stories. “Besides you, brother, and Ser Goodwin I doubt I will meet any other man who treats me fairly.”  
  
“The Seven have a strange way of surprising us all, Brienne.” Selwyn smiled and embraced his daughter, “You are young still and will find that out for yourself – more than once I bet.”  
  
Father and daughter then turned to remount their horses when an ear-splitting roar sounded high above them, they looked up in shock to see a shocking sight: a star was falling! For several fearful seconds it looked like the falling star was headed straight toward them but much to their relief it appeared it was not – instead it impacted further away from Evenfall down the beach. Brienne and Selwyn shielded their eyes and ears as the object impacted the ground – even as far away as they were the ground tembled beneath them. Brienne was first to look and see that the impact had caused a great plume of sand, smoke, rock and seawater to shoot up grabbing for the sky before It all fell back down. Again, Brienne was the first to act as she raced to mount her horse – the animal was frightened from the sound but years of knowing the sight and smell of Brienne appeared to calm it down quickly.  
  
“Come, Father! Let us see it up close!” Brienne called and rode off before Selwyn could say anything to stop her. Brienne had spent years combing the cliffside and beaches around Evenfall therefore it did not take her long to find a winding path down to the beach below them. Approaching the impact point of the falling star she could see where the beach had turned to glass from the force and heat of the impact -each step that took her closer crunched the glass. She had never seen a falling star land before, very few people had, and did not know what to expect once she got close enough through the steam and smoke. It was said that falling stars were made of metal and rock – that House Dayne in Dorne had a sky-metal sword called Dawn – she had seen mines and ore bound in stone so perhaps it would be similar to that. When she caught sight of the fallen star her breath caught in her throat.  
  
It wasn’t just made out of rock and metal ore – it was completely made out of metal! The surface of the fallen star was ruined and pockmarked with damage – she did not doubt that its entry onto the surface of Tegon had been brutal but as she peered closer Brienne thought she could make out an intricate surface between the ruined parts. Had this thing been made of crafted metal? The ground sizzled around the fallen star or whatever it truly was – still very hot she could feel the heat in the ground beneath her boots  
  
Just as she was struggling to understand what she was looking at the fallen star cracked open – and out came strange clear liquid which was surprising but what was even more surprising was the baby that came out with it. When the baby came in contact with the hot ground it began to wail – a sound that pierced Brienne through her heart to hear. She sprinted the last few feet to the crying baby and scooped it up in her arms, biting down the pain of her hands as they brushed against the scorched earth. No sooner than the baby – a he, she could see that quite clearly – was in her arms she ran back the way she had come putting distance between her and the fallen star.  
  
“You-you’re alright now, little one. Sshh, Ssshhh” Brienne did her best to sound calming and reassuring as she looked down at the baby boy. She more hoped than knew it would work – she had very little experience with children! Was this the best way to hold him in her arms? Would he be scared of her face? Perhaps more amazing than the sight of the fallen star or the babe’s sudden appearance from within it, and much to Brienne’s relief, the baby calmed down in her arms. Its wails subsiding at her words, almost as if he understood her. The baby slowly opened its eyes and she let herself gasp softly as she stared into the grey of them. There was something about the baby’s eyes, she had the impression of steel for some reason.  
  
“Brienne! What-what do you have there? A baby?” Selwyn had finally caught up with his daughter, his face a look of shock as he dismounted and stepped closer to make sure his daughter was alright and then inspect the little child.  
  
“A babe from the sky. What does this mean, Father?” Brienne asked, tearing her eyes from the child’s look up at her father. Lord Tarth’s face looked deeply puzzled and awed in equal measure – he did not reply immediately to her question only speaking after perhaps a minute or Brienne thought more.  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t know at all. This seems like it is a story from the age of the First Men.” Selwyn hesitantly reached forward and placed a hand on the baby’s forehead. It seemed to study him as he did so.  
  
“We…we should keep him, Father. We can’t abandon him – it just wouldn’t be right.” Brienne said, Selwyn opened his mouth to say something but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a sudden wrenching sound. Father and daughter looked back toward the fallen star, the smoke had cleared finally, to see that it was slowly disintegrating before their eyes – crumbling apart into broken metal that was being washed away with each wave of sea water than came in. It would be all gone in a matter of minutes.  
  
“Well, we cannot say he came from the stars.” Selwyn shook his head, “Every House from here to the Wall would say we are mad.” He paused in thought for several moments and then gave Brienne an apprising look, “Perhaps we should say he is your bastard?”  
  
“Father! No, that would never work.” Brienne’s face beat red in anger and embarrassment, “I have not even had the figure of being with child- “  
  
“Calm yourself, Brienne. I was jesting.” Selwyn shook his head, “No, it would be better to say he is my bastard instead.”  
  
“As I said you have had a great many ladies in your court these past years” Brienne snorted and looked at the baby again, “He needs a name.” She looked into his eyes again. There was steel behind them but also something else she couldn’t put her finger on, “He looks like a little conqueror. Perhaps…Aegon?”  
  
“Hah. Aegon Storm, the Little Conqueror? Eh? Not a bad name.” Selwyn nodded his head in approval, “The names of the dragon-kings are not in great popularity across Westeros, but Aegon has special meaning to the Seven Kingdoms…and to us. Be Aegon a conqueror or an egg.”  
  
Brienne thought to ask her father more on what he had meant by an Aegon having a special meaning to ‘us’ but decided to put that question aside for now. Instead she let her father take her horse and held onto little Aegon as they walked down the beach toward Evenfall. It would be nice to have a brother again, this time she would teach him the ways of the sword, shield, and knighthood.


	2. Edric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edric, bastard son of the dead King Robert Baratheon greets an unusual pair of guests at Storm's End.

**Edric  
  
299 AC  
  
Storm’ End**  
  
“Announcing Lord Errol of Haystack Hall” the crier announced from his position at the door to the central hall. It was also a signal for Edric to stand up from his bench and walk toward the arriving lord and greet him as his uncle Renly had tasked him.  
  
“Lord Errol? I thought the head of House Errol was a Lady?” Edric heard Stafford say to Walgrave, the two Men-At-Arms had been assigned to watch the entrance hall that night and they stood closest enough to Edric that he could hear them all afternoon. Including the various comments, they made about the various Highborn that came through.  
  
“Hm, I hear the lady has taken ill. Though he looks like a fine successor to the name. He looks like he is fit to blow over at the slightest breeze.”  
  
Edric toned down his smile and stifled the chuckle in his throat before he had walked over to Lord Errol and had bowed to the man.  
  
“Greetings Lord Errol. On behalf of my uncle I greet you to Storm’s End.”  
  
“Ah, young Edric Storm. Thank you for your greetings.” Lord Errol replied, he did look rather weary, perhaps from the ride from Haystack Hall which was much further north in the Stormlands, “My condolences to you on the…death of your Father. King Robert was a….great man.”  
  
Edric felt a chill go through him and he hoped he hid it well. It had not been the first time that day or the days since his father, King Robert Baratheon, had died that others had expressed their polite sorrow toward him. The last time he had met his father had been so long ago, though Renly and Penrose said he had his father’s looks, he could not really picture Robert  
  
“Thank you, I…appreciate your words. Please, make yourself at home in Storm’s End. Room and space had been prepared for you and your servants. Once you are available please seek out my uncle.” Edric bowed once more as Lord Errol left then beat a retreat back to his bench to await the arrival of the next guest to the Baratheon seat of power.  
  
Things had certainly changed in the last week or so since his father’s death and they had been happening so quickly. First had come the ravens from King’s Landing announcing the death of King Robert. Then another raven from Renly from on the road to Storm’s End ordering Penrose to summon his bannermen and send messages to the Houses of the Stormlands. Then Renly and Loras Tyrell as well as fifty of their retainers had arrived and things had slide further and further down toward what looked like a war footing – with Edric’s half-brother Joffrey. Renly had taken Edric aside and assured him that he would protect him, and that Joffrey was not fit for the Iron Throne and had asked Edric for his confidence. He did trust Uncle Renly and having no other option had given it to him – Renly had been very happy about that and had asked that he greet the Stormlander lords that had not arrived yet.  
  
At times he felt like he was standing on the walls of Storm’s End and he was looking down over the cliff.  
  
“Announcing the…the…” the announcer stuttered, it made Edric open his eyes and realize that he had dozed off for a moment, he looked to see the man look almost…flabbergasted at the next guest or guests through the doorway. “Announcing…Lady Brienne of Tarth…daughter of Lord Tarth of Evenfall…and…Aegon Storm…”  
  
It did not take long for Edric to realize why the man seemed so off balanced as even his eyes widened by the next pair of guests that stepped into the entrance hall. The first was a woman, she was dressed in riding leathers and had short straw colored hair – but at her side she had strapped a longsword! Edric had never seen a girl or a woman carrying a sword before. She was also quite tall and looked muscular, she may have been a woman but he thought she did look dangerous.  
  
“Oho! That’s Brienne the Beauty! The one Red Ronnet rejected with a rose and thought a freak!” Stafford sniggered to Walgrove and elbowed him.  
  
“The battle-maid? That girl of Lord Tarth’s who likes playing with swords? She certainly has the face for it.” Walgrove replied with amusement brimming in his voice. It felt strange to see certainly, but was it wrong for a woman to carry a sword? It certainly was not done in Westeros – except for perhaps in the North.  
  
The Men-At-Arms both stopped their silent mockery of Brienne when the man behind her stepped through. For a moment Edric thought he was witnessing Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Walks, but that was impossible as this man was Aegon Storm – a bastard like him. Regardless, the man had to be at least as tall as the Mountain given that he loomed over any man Edric had seen but there was something else about him that made him stare in awe. Was it his aquiline features and penetrating eyes barely covered by copper-red hair? Was it the greatsword he had strapped to his back that he looked like he could handle with just one hand? The plate and leather he wore that made him seem like a god of war?  
  
“Aegon Storm…THAT is the Bastard of Tarth? The Redstar?” Walgrove finally said, awe and shock in his voice. Edric looked closer at Aegon and saw that he had a shield which looked like they were the House Tarth colors of quartered sun and moon but instead of the traditional yellow and white they were painted red.  
  
“I’d heard he was the son of Lord Tarth and a Dornishwoman, that would explain his looks…but I heard when he was announced in Evenfall he was only a baby – four years ago.” Stafford replied.  
  
“Impossible! Little Storm is one and ten, if that…Giant Storm is four I will eat my shoes!” Walgroove shook his head, “No, no. I heard he was announced at court four years ago and that he was well, big. Whoever told you he was a baby must have been pulling your leg.”  
  
“Ah…Edric?” the Announcer said his name timidly, as if he was asking Edric to save him. Edric cursed himself, he had been so in awe of the pair he had forgotten to sit up and walk over! Feeling his cheeks burn he joined the latest arrivals and did his best not to stare. Brienne he noticed was not a very pretty woman, but she seemed very serious. Aegon Storm seemed to grow in his mind’s eye as Edric approached him, but in contrast to his companion’s more stern look there was more amusement on his face.  
  
“M-my greetings to you both. Lady Tarth…and Aegon Storm.” Edric said and looked up at the two.  
  
“Thank you Edric, the Straits of Tarth have been stormier than usual. We would have been here sooner had they been less so. House Tarth stands with you and our Liege Lord…Renly.” Brienne bowed to him instead of curtseying as most of the ladies he had met would do.  
  
“As my sister says, and yes ‘Little Storm’ I am son to Lord Selwyn of Tarth, the Evenstar.” Aegon smiled down at Edric as he spoke – it was almost like a hound’s smile, he was as straightforward as his sister but much more friendly. Before he continued Aegon turned toward the direction of Stafford and Walgrove, he spoke much louder, so his voice carried over to them “More importantly, yes she knows how to use that sword very well. And the lance and the mace. Among other things.”  
  
Edric gaped for a moment before he shut his mouth. Had Aegon been able to hear their conversation? How? Edric glanced back to see both of the Men-At-Arms look petrified against the backdrop of the wall, it put him in mind of the butterfly collection of a maester who had stayed at Storm’s End briefly.  
  
“Aegon, you stand in the home of the Lord-Paramount of the Stormlands. You are speaking to a son of King Robert Baratheon and Lord Renly’s nephew. Brother, show some respect.” Brienne sighed and rolled her eyes. Her tone wasn’t harsh, it was serious but had an edge to it – like she had expected this and had dealt with her half-brother saying such things before.  
  
Aegon and Brienne had also called themselves brother and sister, Edric noted. He had once, only once, received a badly worded letter from Joffrey – Edric had been able to tell that someone (most likely Jon Arryn) had probably been standing over his shoulder as he wrote it – and had only referred to Edric as half-brother. All the other times he had heard a sibling talk about a bastard their words were at best -half-brother and more often worse. He wondered what it would be like to have a sibling who referred to him as brother.  
  
“Hahaha.” Aegon laughed, his voice boomed across the entrance hall and it sounded hearty, he turned to Edric and winked conspiratorially – as if he was being let in on a big secret “Brienne fancies Renly. If we were in the hall of one of her former suitors, her tone would be quite different.”  
  
“Insufferable.” Brienne’s cheeks blushed and she turned her head away from Aegon but she did not deny the accusation, “Will our servants be taken care of? I wish to make sure our and their lodgings are taken care of before I see Lord Renly.”  
  
“O-of course, all accommodations will be met.” Edric looked and saw a pair of equally awed servants had arrived, “They will show you and your people the way.”  
  
“My thanks to you and Lord Renly.” Brienne smiled down at him and bowed to him.  
  
“As my sister says.” Aegon repeated his earlier words but this time he did bow likewise.  
  
He decided to wait another hour, for at least two more arrivals, before he excused himself and had taken off down the halls toward where he had guessed Brienne and Aegon would have been given lodgings in the castle. He had lived here for just about all of his life and knew it almost like the back of his hand. Just as he approached the wing, he saw the large shape of Aegon round the corner going the opposite direction of him. As silently as he could make himself, he slipped against the side wall of the hallway and into a shadow. It did not appear like Aegon had seen him.  
  
Again, silently he followed the Giant of Tarth through Storm’s End, sneaking around corners and staying just out of sight. He wanted to see more of the impressive fellow bastard, but to his puzzlement as Aegon walked the halls he seemed to be going nowhere at all. Was he bored or just familiarizing himself with Storm’s End?  
  
After several minutes of this Edric huddled up against a corner and looked around it to see – Aegon looking directly at him with an amused grin on his face. Feeling his face go white Edric leaped backward around the corner, stumbling and falling on his arse as he did so.  
  
“Come here Little Storm. Its rude to spy on your guests.” Aegon said, there was something commanding in his warm tone that Edric surprisingly found himself standing before the larger man with his head hung down.  
  
“I-I-I apologize for my transgression! I didn’t mean to spy on you!” Edric mumbled.  
  
“You’ve followed me for quite some time. I feel like it was on purpose.” Aegon said.  
  
“I was just curious…!” Edric replied, finally looking up to Aegon and instead of anger he still saw amusement.  
  
“By the Seven I am curious as well.” Aegon scratched his chin, “Perhaps there is a way you can make it up to me...would you be fine with this?”  
  
“Yes, of course. I would be happy to make amends!” Edric gulped.  
  
“Good, good. Come with me then!” Aegon announced, pleased, and took off. After a moment of astonishment Edric ran to catch up with the larger Aegon and keep pace with him. The Bastard of Tarth appeared to not need any help with directions at all, he walked with a surety as if he had also lived his life in Storm’s End. After several more minutes of walking Aegon and Edric walked out into the training yard where he could see several of the highborn he had greeted earlier were practicing and training with swords. Some had even gathered around in tight knots to watch others mock duel.  
  
“Now, can you tell me? Are any of these men Ser Edmonton Cliffhall? Ser Ben Hollowhill? Ser Gerold Slight?”  
  
“Yes, sir. I can.” Edric replied, puzzled at the request but he pointed out which were the men that Aegon had asked about. All the men he knew were minor landed knights – he couldn’t think of the reason why Aegon had asked about them.  
  
“Good, lad. Now, can you point out which one is Ronnet Connington?” Aegon’s eyes became suddenly stormy as he said the name. Ronnet Connington? The Red Ronnet? Edric thought back, and remembered that Stafford had mentioned the name. It came to him in a snap of lightning. He remembered one of the lessons he had been taught by Maester Jurne and Penrose – one of which had included the current standings of the Houses of the Stormlands. When talking about House Tarth they had mentioned Brienne was her father’s heir and that she was un-betrothed…at least one of the men she had beaten for an offense and the other had insulted her and left upon seeing her – that had been Red Ronnet!  
  
“That would be him.” Edric pointed to Ronnet Connington where he was trading blows with another lord. He began to wonder if he had fallen into some kind of trap. Edric had been greeting all of his uncle’s guests for the last few days, he was also very knowledgeable of the landed nobility given he was being raised in Storm’s End and was King Robert’s son. He would know who was who, unlike Aegon who had lived on Tarth. “Aegon…did you just ask me…to point out several men who had been suitors to Lady Brienne and reject her?”  
  
“Hah, smart lad. You should stick to using your head instead of sneaking about. You have the right of it.” Aegon looked down at him approvingly. “These men insulted my sister. Her honor as a lady and more importantly as a warrior. I aim to teach them the virtue of respect. Except for Connington.”  
  
“Why not Connington?” Edric asked, puzzled again.  
  
“Oho. Him, well while I do have my eyes set on him I know better. I am going to leave him to Brienne.


	3. Brienne II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne faces against an old tormentor in combat.

Brienne II

299 AC

Storm’s End

“After my crowning in Highgarden we will march north on the Roseroad. With food from the Reach cut off the smallfolk of King’s Landing will no doubt be all too happy to see Joffrey deposed. If they don’t do it for me!” Renly inclined his head toward Brienne and winked, immediately she felt her heart squeeze in her chest.

It was like four years ago when he had swept her across the dance floor and made her feel…like a maid and not a freak or a beast. After all these years he was as bright and courteous as ever, she felt relieved that she could banish the fear that she had held onto through the years since they had last met that he would revile and reject her like all the other smirking lords.

“It is a bold move,” Brienne replied, her armored footsteps echoed through the halls of Storm’s End as she walked beside Renly, “Though need the smallfolk suffer so much?”

In the name of the Mother I charge you to protect the young and innocent.

Though she was not a knight Brienne still keenly held the noble pledge, that all -men- swore when knighted, as her own.

“Better than the horror they would be subjected to under Joffrey. The child is a wretch at best.” Loras Tyrell chimed in from Renly’s other side, he rolled his eyes at her derisively. Brienne was not sure why Loras seemed so hostile to her from practically the first moment they had met. If it had been about her carrying herself as a warrior, he would have disparaged her about it already – though perhaps Renly’s presence held him in check? Her institution told her this was different, oddly enough it seemed like his ire at her only rose when it looked like Renly was favoring her. Did Loras see her as a threat to Renly’s planned betrothal to the Tyrell’s sister? Brienne had stomached the news of the union stoically, but the idea that Brienne was a threat was laughable to her – not in the mirthful way at that. Margarey Tyrell from all Brienne had heard was a paragon of what a ‘lady’ should be, whereas she was not.

It left her cold to think about but Loras’ sister was the better match for her Renly.

Renly seemed more…amused… by Loras’ attitude but handled it all diplomatically.

“Brienne does make a valid point. Once King's Landing is mine I will ensure the city is stocked with food immediately. Perhaps a celebration. I was here at Storm’s End when your father besieged us during my brother’s rebellion. I ate rats and onions.” Renly wagged a finger at Loras before he turned to her, “Likewise you have not met Joffrey or Cersei or Tywin Lannister for that matter. Already war grips the Riverlands, it is a fire that is spreading, and I intend to stamp it out at the capital. It will be a great service to the innocent of ALL Westeros.”

They walked in silence for a few more moments before Renly continued, “Plus my brother Robert confided in me that he did not want Joffrey to inherit the throne. Granted Robert was deep in his cups at the time but that meant he was speaking truthfully.”

“That does make sense…” Brienne paused and nodded to Renly which seemed to please him. Quietly she pressed down on her doubts, Renly must know better than her in this matter she decided. She thought of how she could move away from the subject and caught an idea, “Do you have plans for a new Kingsguard, my lord?”

Renly’s features bloomed in delight, as if he had been waiting for someone to bring the subject up, and she fought the blush on her face at his reaction.

“Yes! I have a wonderful plan for my Kingsguard! I do already have a few members in mind,” Renly elbowed Loras in a friendly manner which seemed to likewise delight the Tyrell as his glare at her disappeared like morning mist, “I have hopes to woo Barristan the Bold to my side. I already have his grand-nephew, Lord Arstan’s allegiance. A hero of the past and the cream of the crop of the future! They will be the talk of all Westeros”.

“By the Warrior-? What is going on there?” Loras interrupted and pointed.

They had just turned to enter the training yard and she had been so focused on Renly she did not notice anything amiss at first. She turned her head in the direction that Loras indicated and immediately felt her face go pale.

“Aegon! No, he promised!” Brienne muttered under her breath.

A large ring of men had formed in the center of the yard, lords, squires, and servants mingled together and were either shouting encouragement toward the four figures in the circle or gossiping among themselves. She recognized all four men, the smaller three’s faces were burned in her memory – their smirking faces had made her feel terrible when they had come to Evenhall as suitors but had left laughing at her. The largest of course was Aegon, her adopted brother and to most of Westeros known as her bastard brother.

She still remembered the first day he had ‘arrived’ and she had held him a baby in her arms. His growth had been supernatural and had been hard to conceal but those who witnessed his growth over the last four years were loyal to Aegon and fortunately Tarth’s isolation made it easier for her father to change the rumors of Aegon’s origin.

“Is that the Bastard of Tarth? The self-proclaimed Redstar?” Renly asked his eyes fixated on Aegon as he spoke.

“More like the Giant of Tarth!” Loras replied, also transfixed with shock by the sight of her brother, “I’ve seen the Mountain That Walks and he is a match in size!”

“Hmmm. My very own Mountain. I do like the sound of that.” Renly hummed to himself, rubbing his chin in thought, “I had heard rumors about him.”

“Lord Renly, I apologize for the spectacle my brother is creating right now.” Brienne flushed again in embarrassment and bowed to him sharply, “I will put an end to this immediately.”

Before Renly could reply she was storming off toward the circle, fortunately it looked like whatever was about to happen had not started already. Burning with anger and embarrassment she drew her sword as she advanced, pushing past the men who ringed the would-be combatants easily given her size and strength.

“Brother! You promised me you would not cause a stir here!” Brienne growled the words flatly as she approached behind him.

“Brienne” Aegon smiled down at her, and for a moment she felt her anger subside slightly, “I promised I would not challenge those who disrespected you so dishonorably! You didn’t forbid me from accepting a challenge from them!”

She wanted to slap her own face but her dominate hand held her sword so she resisted the urge. Aegon had taken after her in many ways since he had come to Evenhall, he was stubborn and headstrong just as she was but also had absorbed the ideals of knighthood, she had taught him. He had been appalled by the actions of her former suitors. He always egged her on to go to their halls and challenge them but she rejected such notions – it was something that she as a woman could not do – despite the fact that the idea pleased her.

She was a trueborn, highborn lady who desired to be a knight but could not because of her sex. Aegon, beyond his supernatural growth and strength, was to all a bastard and had no claim to nobility but despite that he was still a man and could not just aspire to knighthood but would be -accepted- in a way she could never be. Barring very specific and unusual circumstances only Aegon would be able to live out her own desires – something she felt he was keenly aware of and was all too happy to pursue all in her name. It was because he loved her like family.

“Why then are you facing all three at once?” she asked, shaking her head with an exasperated sigh.

“It was the only way the cowards would face me! They seek to overcome their fear with numbers.” Aegon replied, an almost houndish look to his face appeared as he smiled back toward Crackhall, Hollowhill, and Slight who bristled.

“If it isn’t Brienne the Beauty!” Slight sneered at her, “Step aside like a good maid now. Watch as we beat your freak bastard kin!”

His words were accompanied by sniggering japes from both Crackhall and Hollowhill but all three men shut their mouths when they said Renly join Aegon and Brienne by their side.

“You speak to a Lady of Tarth, my good sers. In MY castle you would be wise to treat her with respect.” Renly was not smiling as he eyed all three of them. Brienne’s spine chilled with ice, she felt her embarrassment climb – she had not wanted to trouble Renly at all. She bowed again to him.

“My Lord, I apologize for my brother’s actions! He WILL disperse-“ Brienne began but Renly cut her off.

“Nonsense, my lady! I want to see your brother in action.” Renly grinned down at her and turned to Aegon, “I take it you have a strong arm?”

“I do, my sister taught me all that I know. This club will be all that I need to beat a sense of shame into these men.” Aegon replied, holding up the wooden war club he held – the greatsword he now normally used was gone. She looked and saw that her brother had given it to young Edric Storm who seemed to have to use all of his strength to hold it.

“I wouldn’t doubt him at all, uncle.” Edric said.

“Edric? Not at the front gate? Ah, I can’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to miss this either.” Renly gently took Brienne by the arm and guided her away, turning to the crowd he spoke “This test of arms has my approval! For honor and respect shall be decided here! Let it begin once all have said they are ready!”

The crowd cheered their approval, all seemed eager to see the events of the matchup. Defeated, Brienne sighed and sheathed her sword to stand by Renly – Loras was back to glaring at her again but he kept quiet as the combatants gave their affirmations that they were ready to begin.

“Come on then, we will fight until you lot cry yield or speak no more!” Aegon gave a testing swing of his club at the air in front of him. His opposites had opted to use their swords instead and each looked at the other nervously as if perhaps they were just realizing what they had gotten themselves into and wondered how they had come to be here.

“PLEASE do not kill any of them” Brienne called out to Aegon, which made Renly chuckle but in truth she was being extremely serious. None of them had witnessed what her brother was capable of.

Slight cried at the other two men to advance and so all three opponents stepped forward spreading out in a wide arc to stretch Aegon’s defense before they charged in with their swords raised. Three swords scythed through the air toward Aegon one moment and in a blink of an eye all three were rebuffed and bounced back toward their owners. Aegon pressed into their attacks using his shield to block and push back two of the swords just as though it seemed like they would strike while his club parried the last. Quicker than then other men could react Aegon had pushed forward, using his shield with its red stars to -lightly- shove Hollowhill and Slight back while he used the end of his club to push at Crackhall as if he was an old man using a cane to poke at some miscreant. Unprepared all three men fell backwards off their feet.

The crowd that watched the fight were silent at first then roared with laughter as Aegon’s opponents stumbled to get back up again.

“I thought you were landed knights of House Baratheon! Not boys who don’t know which end of their swords to swing!” Aegon laughed as he spoke, it was deep and hearty – it likely reminded some of King Robert she supposed.

“Bastard cur!” Hollowhill was first to his feet and his face was scrunched in red anger. Rather than wait for his compatriots he was already rushing forward on the attack. Brienne shook her head; it was a bad move on his part – he had a much better chance of success when working in concert with the other two. Now all that he had done was single himself out to be the first to be put down by Aegon.

“Honorless cur!” Aegon retorted and swept low with his club so hard and fast that Hollowhill likely barely knew what happened when his legs were pushed out from underneath him and his head hit the ground, he was almost immediately unconscious. Putting a boot to Hollowhill, Aegon rolled him over through the mud and to the side of their arena before he turned back to the remaining combatants, “One down, who’s next?”

Perhaps unnerved by the display it was Slight who answered with a wordless shout of frustration and fear, his sword moving fast as he hacked at Aegon whose own shield effortlessly bounced off every attack that was sent his way. While Slight appeared to keep Aegon busy Crackhall circled around the side, panting wildly as he attempted to strike at Aegon’s exposed side.

Aegon was much too fast for that.

Stepping aside and twisting around with a grace that seemed impossible given his size Aegon stepped out of Crackhall’s swing and stepped forward into the man’s guard – rather than use his club he backhanded the man -lightly- but it was strong enough that Crackhall was sent stumbling around and around in a circle before he fell face first into the dirt – unconscious.

“Now just, you.” Aegon turned on Slight and for a moment Brienne saw herself in the other man’s shoes. Alone and being absolutely loomed over by the larger, stronger opponent. Aegon had long since surpassed Brienne in strength and speed but they still trained with one another and he held back what he was truly capable of – she did not see this as an insult in anyway. It would have been an insult if he refused her – no, he respected Brienne and still helped her to be a great swordswoman.

Slight looked between his unconscious compatriots and swallowed hard. So far Aegon had knocked each man unconscious with but a single strike.

“I-I-I yield!” Slight gasped, throwing his sword aside – but Aegon did not acknowledge him, instead he walked forward toward Slight and lazily swung his club in a circle. Slight whimpered and fell to his knees as Aegon approached, he held out his hands in front of him and pleaded, “I yield! Please, by the mother I yield!”

Aegon cocked his head to the side when he stood just in front of Slight, “Apologize! Admit your faults and your dishonor!”

“I-I was wrong! I was unworthy of a knight! I am sorry Brienne of Tarth! You did nothing to deserve my disrespect!” Slight poured out his words as if a dam had broken inside of him. Brienne stood straighter as eyes around her looked to her. She stepped forward and picked up Slight’s blade from where it had been thrown to the ground and held it out to him.

“On your honor as a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms do you swear that you will go forth from this day with new purpose to live up to the ideals of a true knight?” Brienne asked him, and though he hung his head Slight nodded and pledged that he would do so.

As Brienne stepped back after handing Slight his sword a clap rose up beside her, she saw Aegon clapping his hands. Next, she saw Renly do the same as well as Edric. Next was Loras and several other men. Soon everyone was clapping in approval, but though something burned brighter inside of her she kept her expression in check in front of Renly.

“Well said and well done!” Renly stepped forward to both her and Aegon, something was alight in his eyes as he next spoke, “Come join me at the table for tonight’s feast. I would be happy to have you both with me on our trip to Highgarden.”


	4. Gendry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry meets with Aegon Storm

Gendry

299 AC

Ashford

Stag helmets and warhammers. Warhammers and stag helmets.

It felt like he would be making stag helmets and warhammers for the rest of his life at the forge! He wasn’t the only one admittingly, there were other smiths in the Stormlander party moving west who he worked with. Though he could also not refuse a royal request, son of a tavern wench and unknown father that he was, nor the man that had requested them.

“I still blame Master Mott for all this…” he grumbled to himself, given the smithy was empty this late at night, and put on the finishing touches of the perhaps hundredth stag helmet he had made. “Could have just said the repair to the shoulder work was his, but no he had to praise his lowly apprentice to Lord Renly Baratheon himself! The same brother to the King who had seemed so happy with it he had bought this damn apprentice’s contract. Now look where you are, will be making these until they lay down your bones at this rate…”

It had seemed a little too good to be true at first. Working for the Master of Laws and the brother of King Robert, but the silver lining had quickly faded when weeks later the King had died and then Renly had fled the capital with his retainers and household. That had been a confusing run south to Storm’s End.

Of course, then HE had approached Gendry with a royal order…

“I hope you aren’t getting sick of making these, lad.” A deep but amused voice called to him as its owner stooped to enter the room.

“N-no of course not!” Gendry winced more at himself for letting a squeak enter his voice as he whirled to face Aegon Storm, the Redstar of Tarth. The man was intimidating to say the least, he ignored those rumors that said Aegon was only four years, but at the same time there was something about him that put Gendry at ease.

“Oh, really now? I hope not, we want you to be making these ‘until they lay down your bones’ at the very least at this rate.” Aegon raised an eye brow at him and grinned. Gendry sighed in defeat. The strange giant had an almost supernatural sense of hearing.

“Well, I mean. Working at Master Mott’s on the Street of Steel I used to do all sorts of different orders.” Gendry rubbed the back of his head as he searched for the words, but Aegon held up a hand.

“There is only so many times you can do the same thing over and over again until you go mad.” Gendry nodded at Aegon’s words, “Beating a path to Highgarden can’t help much either”

The Bastard of Tarth had a point about that too. The host of men from the Stormlands had been on the march toward the Reach for some time now, that was where Renly planned to crown himself as King of Westeros and then wed his new queen before moving north. Ashford was just their latest stop. He had lived in King’s Landing for all of his life and this much traveling - sleeping in foreign places, never staying anywhere for very long – was new and he had not become used to it yet.

“I’ll admit. I’ve been getting more and more exhausted.” Gendry looked away from Aegon, embarrassed at suddenly to airing his grievances. Aegon let out a chuckle and walked over to him, placing one huge hand on Gendry’s shoulder to give him a reassuring squeeze. Gendry tensed up at first, a primal panic in the back of his head howling at being so close to Aegon but then at Aegon’s touch he felt his exhaustion and fears drain away.

“I’ve lived in the Stormlands all my life, on the coast no less. You get a sense of when the next storm is coming. Don’t worry this…limbo you are feeling will pass soon.” Aegon’s gaze drifted briefly from Gendry and he seemed to be staring at something else before he shook his head and stepped back. “You aren’t from the Stormlands though; your accent sounds like the merchants I’ve met from King’s Landing.”

“You’re right.” Gendry rolled his shoulders, it was odd, but his aches really did feel gone, he doubted Aegon was some sort of sorcerer who could use magic “I’ve lived in King’s Landing all my life.”

“Really? The first impression I got from you was otherwise.” Aegon said and peered down at him, it felt like the Redstar was looking through him, “At the very least your father was surely from there.”

“I’ve never met my father so I wouldn’t even be able to find that out for myself.” Gendry shrugged.

“Oh, I have a good…intuition about these things.” Aegon grinned again, something seemed to twinkle in his eyes, “There is certainly storm in you. A familiar one at that.”

Gendry was not sure how to respond to that. This sudden line of questioning about his origin was…well not normal for him. He was a lowborn who through some sort of luck managed to be apprenticed to a good smith on the Street of Steel and then taken into the household of the Lord-Paramount of the Stormlands. He wasn’t anything special, just lucky.

“Come on lad, why don’t you try one of these on for size?” Aegon said, and despite Gendry’s protests the strong hands of the giant had pressed on him one of the helmets he had made – crested with some of the largest stag antlers that had been brought to him – and a Warhammer thrust into both his hands. He thought he must have looked ridiculous but for some reason Aegon seemed pleased.

“You cut an imposing enough figure and I’ve seen you swing a hammer. You’re a storm warrior in all but name.”


	5. Garlan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House Tyrell receives Renly and his host at Highgarden. The Storm Thunders.

**Garlan  
  
299 AC  
  
Highgarden**  
  
“Well it certainly is a pleasure to see my grandchildren have more sense than my son has in his entire body.” Grandmother had said the words just loud enough that Father could have perhaps heard them from where he stood on the platform beside the gate to Highgarden. If Father did hear the words he gave no sign that he had – though Garlan thought Mace was perhaps staring a bit too intensely at a passing cloud.  
  
“Grandmother! You are much too harsh on Father.” Margarery squeezed Grandmother’s arm from the divan where they say, but standing beside them Garlan could see the amused smile on his sister’s lips. She had not said Olenna was wrong in this case.  
  
“I had been afraid Loras would follow the same path, always polishing his sword that one, but imagine my surprise when the raven from Storm’s End arrived.” Olenna fanned herself. The ravens had brought shocking news as of late. King Robert was dead. Lord Stark had been accused of treason and arrested. Fighting in the Riverlands. Renly and Loras’ proposal of marriage and crowning in Highgarden. Robb Stark marching south with his bannermen. The imminent arrival of Renly and many of his bannermen.  
  
The last of which was why half the lords of the Reach, the population surrounding Highgarden and the Tyrells themselves had arrayed outside the gates. Rather than treason the air was filled with the spirit of a parade. Tables with drinks and food had been set, there was a band playing light music, and even a troupe of mummers performing acrobatics to the side. From what Garlan knew of Renly the man did like to put on airs, but to impress the lords of the Reach was not a bad move at all considering the nature of things.  
  
“Loras can be rather focused on specific matters,” Margaery rode to the rescue of their brother, “He knows the knights of the Reach well and it seems my Husband-To-Be well too. An alliance benefits us all.”  
  
A look of consternation briefly bloomed on Margaery’s face at the last words but then it was gone before too many people could notice. Garlan had an inkling of just how much Loras and Renly may have gotten along together – nothing to be ashamed of in Garlan’s eyes but given the unique situation Margaery was coming into between them her worry would be understandable.  
  
“Renly is quite charming and a good man. I doubt Loras would have suggested your marriage without taking your wellness in mind.” Garlan smiled at his sister which she returned with a nod of thanks.  
  
“Oh? Why if it isn’t Garlan the Ghost! It is good to hear your voice after so long. Tell me, grandson, how is my dearly departed Luthor?” Grandmother turned her attention to him. Her words were more playful than stinging. His brother Wilas had named him ‘Garlan the Gallant’ in his youth to save him from following their great-uncle Garth the Gross. Grandmother though preferred ‘the Ghost’ because of Garlan’s own reputation for ignoring glory and schemes unlike Loras and Mace.  
  
“Grandfather is enjoying his peace and quiet as long as he can.” Garlan replied, with a dip of mock-greeting.  
  
“Oh tell me something I don’t know, dear.” Olenna waved her fan at him before she rolled her eyes, “If I have to wait much longer in this sun I’ll shrivel up and die! Die of heatstroke and boredrom.”  
  
“I don’t think you will have to wait much longer.” Margarey pointed toward the distance drawing his eye. He could see a host of men had appeared and were making their way down the road toward them.  
  
“Finally, let’s get this charade over with.” Grandmother harrumphed as she stood with his sister’s arm around her own. The other Reachmen, lowborn and highborn alike, had also taken notice and were beginning to gather beside the road and talk quietly among themselves. After several minutes as the incoming host came closer the band began to play again covering up the murmured conversation. He thought it might have been ‘The Flowers of Spring’.  
  
The vanguard of the party who arrived first were made up of several dozen mounted knights and men-at-arms of House Baratheon. Each bearing the banner of their lord’s house sigil. Clapping and cheering was going up now from a few of the bystanders now, Father the loudest and perhaps most embarrassingly enthusiastic. The vanguard passed by the platform and into the gates of Highgarden.  
  
“Are we done here? Can I go find someplace quieter now? Oh, look here comes the Stormlands’ brashest and loudest” Olenna complained.  
  
Behind the vanguard were the lords of the Stormlands, all mounted on horseback in two separate files. He saw held aloft by a servant or squire or young son the banners of the majority of the Stormlander houses: House Selmy, with its yellow stalks of grain. House Errol, with its single, yellow haystack. House Swann, two black and white swans bowing to each other. House Connington, two red and black griffins roaring opposite one another. House Mertyns, with its great horned owl. As well as many others, he noted that Beric Dondarrion of House Dondarrion was absent, but the impact of their arrival was deafened by three surprises that followed on their heels.  
  
The first of which was the armored figure of a woman in the attire of a lord or knight ready for war. She looked calmly ahead of her as she held aloft the banner of House Tarth on her own. This must have been Brienne of Tarth, Lord Selwyn’s heir and daughter. He had heard from one of her suitors that she preffered the sword to dresses but had dismissed it.  
  
“Not pleasant to look at, but she knows her business. I don’t doubt that.” Grandmother said to Margarey with something approaching praise.  
  
The second surprise followed at Brienne of Tarth’s heels and made Garlan double-take, it was a giant of a man. Garlan had seen The Mountain at tourneys before and this man was a match in size it almost seemed – his surprise had been for a moment he thought the Mountain rode with Renly and not Tywin Lannister. However this man’s shield around his forearm held the coat of House Tarth but the colors were reversed and the four stars were red. He was armored for battle heavy plate, both of his hands held large warhammers that would have taken Garlan the use of both hands to wield them. Finally, on the man’s head was a well-forged helmet studded with large stag antlers.  
  
The last surprise was that the giant was closely followed by fifty more men who wore stag helmets similar to the giant, those these men were normal sized. Further each only held a single warhammer in their hands and shields of House Baratheon on their arms. Coming close to the platform they lifted their hammers in unison with the Giant and rhythmically beat on the inside of their shields.  
  
It sounded like a thunder storm, the waves of sound made Garlan’s bones quaver.  
  
Then the Giant lead them in a deep, sonorous chant.  
  
 _The Storm, it cometh._  
  
 _The Storm, it cometh._  
  
  
 _The wind, it howls._  
  
 _The rain, it runneth._  
  
  
 _Thunder and Lightning._  
  
 _It crushes all, no man can out pace it._  
  
  
 _The Storm is fury and,_  
  
 _Ours is the fury!_  
  
Garlan recognized the words of House Baratheon in the chant. Ours is the Fury. For several moments the crowd seemed transfixed before it erupted in enthusiastic shouts and cheers that drowned out the band, half the members joining in. Even Garlan found himself clapping – it felt as if his blood was up after a training session with his sword and shield against three men but he did not know why he was feeling this.  
  
Beside him Grandmother was silent.  
  
The crowd was still cheering when the Giant and his men passed into Highgarden and Renly, Loras, and his close retainers arrived. The Lord of Storm’s End seemed to soak up the enthusiasm as the crowd turned to him and were undiminished. Instead of passing by the platform Renly and Loras dismounted onto it from their horses.  
  
“Lord Paramount of the Reach” Renly bowed respectively to Father and Mother, he was all smiles.  
  
“My King” Mace bowed in turn, but Renly held up a hand.  
  
“Not a king yet, I would be honored to use the sept here to be crowned.” Renly said these words loud enough so the smallfolk and highborn could hear him clearly. The people of the Reach had a long tradition of faith in the Seven. It was a good move to play to this. “I would also be more than honored to have your beautiful and gracious daughter, whose name has long been spoken to me with the highest praise, stand with me as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!”  
  
Shouts and applause roared up again as Garlan took Margaery gently in arm and lead her to the waiting Renly. Smiling Margaery curtsied to Renly, her green dress seemed to sparkle in the sun.  
  
“I would be honored to accompany, Lord Baratheon.” His Sister turned to father, as if asking approval.  
  
“Of course! I do give my approval! House Baratheon and House Tyrell shall unite here and unite the Seven Kingdoms!” Father shouted again and the band began to play ‘Two Hearts That Beat As One’. The lords of the Stormlands had dismounted and walked back out to join in, Garlan spotted the Giant among them, and they gave a great cheer as well. He thought though perhaps Brienne of Tarth looked more sorrowful than joyful.


	6. Aegon Storm

**Aegon Storm**

**299 AC**

**Highgarden**

The sound of blade upon blade sang in his ears as it was echoed a hundred times over throughout the courtyard. The clash of steel melded with the shouts of men, both curses and cheers of joy. For him his blood seemed to sing, as if to be in the thick of battle and among warriors was what he had been made for.

“A little slow on your left. You will want to bring the blade as close to your body to minimize your swing.” Aegon chided his opponent and he saw the other man nod respectfully to him before swinging again with his sword – slightly better but in truth far too slow to ever catch Aegon off guard.

He had found a few years ago that he was able to divert his attention when in a fight to the surroundings around him. It was almost as if he was of two minds and could focus equally on the battle in front of him and the battle around him. Doing so he took in the courtyard, which was now filled with Storm Warriors training together, eating together, laughing together and more. When Aegon had first proposed the idea of having a guard of men wearing the Baratheon colors as part of Renly’s parade into Highgarden his liege lord had been amused by the idea and had given Aegon his leave. They had mostly been composed of men-at-arms from Tarth and men attached to House Baratheon. After he had unveiled them at Highgarden though their numbers had swiftly swollen from the Reachmen who had been impressed by their display – and Aegon himself – now counting hedge knights and even second and third sons of knights and gentry. There had been tension at first between those who had joined and sought to win his favor simply by the reputation of their family names – some had not been happy to take orders or advice from lowborn – but he had IMPRESSED upon them his desire for unity.

Renly’s – no, Aegon’s men looked up to him, it was not hard for him to catch admiration in the eyes of those who watched him even now. It was a strange concept, that these Storm Warriors were HIS men. On Tarth he had joined his father Lord Selwyn in training exercises of the island’s bannermen – it was there that he had first received his taste for command and maneuvering of men at war – but they had never been HIS men. They were his father’s loyal bannermen, though many looked up to him, and after Father’s passing would be Brienne’s – who unlike him had avoided the mock war games – no doubt due to those who silently mocked her for choosing to live as a maiden of war.

_Sister o’mine! You would challenge any man who openly mocked you, but here in this place you avoid all like the plague!_ Aegon had been disappointed and confused by Brienne since Renly’s marriage and crowning here in Highgarden. He had hoped that with Renly’s marriage to Margarey Tyrell the infatuation he had long known his sister had for the Baratheon would be done with and she could move on. Contrary to what he had expected she had sunk into a strange melancholy – she would emerge from her quarters to train with Aegon in the early morning and at dusk and to dine but other than when Renly called to meet his lords she hid away like a wounded animal. Worse her devotion had seemed to only intensify as when he had suggested returning to Tarth she had refused and said she would stand by her liege lord’s side.

_I understand her affection for Renly seems to be born out of his past kindness and some unrequited love and duty but does he deserve Brienne’s sword?_ Lust was something foreign to him he had found out very early on – he understood the love of family as he would die for his father and sister but that had been earned by them. He knew Renly had treated Brienne well and so that had earned his respect, but he would not devote his life to Renly – he had tactfully avoided suggestions by some that he should petition to join Renly’s Rainbow Guard as he did not desire it. Aegon had his misgivings about Renly and had instead thrown himself into his Storm Warriors and figuring out how to get his sister out of her current mood.

The man he trained with now was one such possibility he had discovered.

“You’ve improved, Ser Robar.” Aegon nodded his approval to the other man as the Royce put down his sword and was panting heavily.

“Have I? It’s hard to tell when you don’t even break a sweat, Storm!” Robar smiled up at him and nodded his thanks to a servant when offered a cup of water to drink from.

Ser Robar Royce, son of Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone was only three years older than Brienne and was comely to look at in a roughhewn way – he had heard others say. He appeared to be a good man and was a second son. One of the only worrying marks about him was that he seemed to take the whole prospect of battle as a game and there were whispers that he was being considered to join Renly’s Rainbow Guard.

Aegon had an ongoing list of men who he was judging eligible enough to court his sister – but it was a short one as he had found to his own disappointment many had strange notions of Brienne’s unworthiness to join them in battle or be knighted. Some he had been able to swiftly beat such notions out of them himself, but the smart ones stayed quiet when he was around. The fact that Brienne was hiding herself away rather than let them see how good she was with sword and shield did not help matters.

“I hear there is a wager among the men of Highgarden to see who can make you break a sweat.” Garlan the Gallant laughed as he stepped into the training circle – Robar respectfully bowed out to the Tyrell as he walked to stand to the side. He cursed the fact that Garlan was already married to Lady Leonette – he would have been perhaps a perfect match for Brienne in many respects, but the Maid had seen fit to make Aegon work harder for his sister.

“Do I get something out of this wager?” Aegon grinned and bowed respectfully to Garlan before they squared off against one another.

“I think you get the honor of a hundred knights of the Reach and Stormlands! A finer prize than any bag of coin.” Garlan laughed before they began to trade blows with one another. Aegon was very approving of Garlan’s sword work, it was said that he trained regularly with two or three opponents and it showed in his footwork. One of the greater challenges Aegon had faced with training many of the highborn especially was that they were too eager to fight as individuals – not in the shield formations that the common men-at-arms and levies most often used. It was a battlefield awareness that he was slowly working into them with regular drills.

After wearing down Garlan for several minutes of parries and feints he went on the offensive using his superior strength and speed to get into Garlan’s guard, his warhammers he had taken to using bashing away his opponent’s shield and knock him off his feet. Once down on the ground he belted one of his warhammers and offered his hand to the prone Tyrell who took it with a nod of respect.

“They say you were born under a falling, red star on Tarth. Are you perhaps the Warrior in disguise?” Garlan joked as he was pulled to his feet.

“Nay, I swear that every time a man asks about that the telling gets more fantastic” Aegon shook his head, but did not elaborate any further. He had an perfect memory of the day he had come to Tarth and of every day since. He had asked the Father the question of where he had truly come from many times before but so far he had not been given an answer. So as before he put the question aside and focused on what was important.

“Excuse me, Ser Garlan.” Aegon bowed and put his warhammers down to the side, “I need to speak with my sister.”


	7. Aegon Storm II / Willas

**Aegon Storm**  
  
 **299 AC**  
  
 **Highgarden**  
  
His idea to motivate Brienne from her chambers had not gone as he had planned or hoped. In fact she had taken outright offense to it.  
  
All Aegon had done was kick down the door to her quarters and swing a sword at her as she lay abed.  
  
Of course he had knocked first and waited for her reply to him to go away so that with his acute hearing he could determine that she was laying in her bed. Then when he had kicked down the door and rushed over to her bedside he had made sure to pull his swing back enough for Brienne and had deliberately aimed just to her side.  
  
To his delight Brienne had already been in motion the moment the door had slammed open, she had slide over the opposite of her bed, unsheathed her sword and already had it up in a defensive position before Aegon had completed his swing.  
  
“Have you gone mad?” Brienne had fumed at him. She was fully clothed, but she had not washed since their training session earlier in the day.  
  
“No, but have you? Staying cooped up in here would drive me mad.” Aegon had retorted and tested her defenses, the arming sword he had taken from the courtyard slapped into her sword.  
  
“You cannot just barge into my room here!” Brienne had growled back at him, she refused to take his bait.  
  
“You don’t normally show any qualms with it back at Evenfall.” Aegon replied and shrugged his shoulders. This wasn’t the first time he had ever broken down her door and attacked her suddenly. Aegon thought it was good training for surprise attacks and normally Brienne would have obliged him.  
  
It seemed however she had been in no mood for him this time however.  
  
“Get out, Aegon. Leave me be!” Brienne glared at him as she sheathed her sword and sat back down on the bed with her back turned to him.  
  
It was dishonorable to stab an opponent in the back, he grumbled as he let his arms fall to his side.  
  
“You need to leave this room more than just to train and eat!” he scowled at her, but if she sensed him she continued to sit facing away from him.  
  
“I am a full grown woman! I will do as I please! You cannot tell me what I should or should not do. Now for the last time leave me!” Brienne hissed, her voice was filled with many emotions.  
  
“Very well, as you wish…My Lady.” Aegon had said before he turned and left her chambers. Making sure the door slid back in place before he did so.  
  
He did not want his men or anyone else for that matter to suffer the anger that welled up inside of him so instead he locked it down behind iron gates and prowled Highgarden to let his anger slowly dissipate. He had explored much of the castle in the first few days since his arrival and knew where he could go to be alone and away from most prying eyes. He had sat in a small garden perhaps for two or so hours before an old voice had called out to him.  
  
“Be careful, or you are liable to set the whole castle on fire with that glare of yours’.” Olenna Tyrell shuffled into the garden as she spoke. Aegon glanced up at her from where he had been staring at an ivy covered wall, behind the Tyrell matriarch were two guards who looked to be identical twins – they did not look at him directly but nonetheless clutched their weapons. Olenna looked back to them and rolled her eyes, “Would one of you be useful and instead of just standing there go fetch us some tea.”  
  
The two looked to one another for a moment before the twin on the left departed leaving his brother to stand to the side. Olenna sighed in annoyance loudly enough that it gave him the impression she did so more out of habit before she sat down on a bench opposite of him. Instead of saying anything further she looked him up and down then in the eyes for a minute before she sighed again.  
  
“You don’t say much do you, dear? Here you are in my home and you don’t introduce yourself properly.”  
  
“Given my appearance I didn’t think I needed introductions.” Aegon smirked at the older woman, “I am the giant, bastard of Tarth. I’d think the Queen of Thorns would know that I was here in her own home?”  
  
“Oh he speaks! For a moment there I was worried I was speaking to my grandson, Garlan the Ghost! And how does he speak to me? Hmm? With the manners of a bastard.” Olenna eyed him before she rapped her cane across his knees, “Good thing for you that I am so awfully tired of all these lords-this and ladies-that from across the Reach and Stormlands trying to butter me up. Ugh. Just terrible.”  
  
“A fearsome reputation can only go so far to scare them away, I take it?” Aegon grinned down at her and she chuckled with a bob of her head.  
  
“Most of those from the Reach know better, at least their parents. I swear my oafish son sends them after to me to torment me. Sad that my own family does not wish to abide by my own wishes to be left alone, eh?” Olenna leaned forward, putting a hand under her chin as she raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Word travels fast here in Highgarden.” Aegon conceded, wondering if perhaps he had let his headstrong frustration get the better of him earlier.  
  
“The shrubbery here has ears, I like to say.” Olenna tapped her cane to the ground, “Your sister wouldn’t be the only young woman wallowing in their sorrows to see a handsome boy like Renly taken by my granddaughter.” The way Olenna said the words sound both prideful and regretful.  
  
“None of them are my sister.” Aegon scowled to the side, “I don’t understand why her…infatuation continues.”  
  
He was fully aware of the reputation of Olenna Tyrell and he wondered how much he should really be telling her. She was Margarey’s grandmother after all and most likely anything he said she would use in her family’s own self-interest.  
  
Would it not be in Olenna’s interest then to see Brienne move on from Renly?  
  
“You are a man, my dear. You’ll never understand just how a girl’s heart works.” A smile quirked on Olenna’s lips, “Still, it is a credit to you that you seem to be looking out for her. The Seven know more than many in your position do.”  
  
“I would do anything for my sister!” Aegon rumbled.  
  
“Good, good. Then perhaps what you need to do is let her work this out herself. Trust me when I say that the only thing that can get a girl’s heart to move on is experience and age. She will come to the conclusion eventually.” Olenna said softly as she continued to tap her cane.  
  
“How long would I have to wait?” he asked and shuffled in his seat. The thought of Brienne being like this any longer was uncomfortable enough already.  
  
“I’d be a witch if I knew that! If you ever let Mace know I said this I will put something unpleasant in your drink but sometimes you have to have faith in your family.” Olenna shrugged her shoulders.  
  
Lady Olenna’s words continued to run through Aegon’s head over the next few weeks as he followed them the best that he could. That evening Brienne did not show up to their usually training session but she did the next morning and did not say anything about their argument the day before. Instead he let himself focus on other matters as events in Westeros had progressed and seemed to be only getting worse.  
  
As the first month of the year drew to a close word had come that Ned Stark had been executed by Joffrey, that seemed to briefly stir the mood in Highgarden and it seemed at first to Aegon that now that the Tyrells and Renly knew that the Lannisters would not be ousted so easily things would become more serious. Then word had arrived of Robb Stark’s surprising battles against Tywin Lannister – capturing Jaime Lannister and lifting the siege of Riverrun – with the Warden of the West retreating to Harrenhall. Rather than push things forward as he had hoped however the mood in Highgarden seemed to slide backward – helped by King Renly who continued to go out hunting and stage balls for the bannermen who arrived almost daily at Highgarden. A large army was forming around the Tyrell castle and it had already swollen to over thirty thousand but it seemed there was no word of what they would be doing,  
  
Aegon’s patience finally seemed to bend when he looked up one evening at the red comet that had slowly been growing larger and larger in the sky over Westeros. He had heard many talking about the comet as if it had meant something – victory or perhaps bloodshed or maybe even destiny. He snorted at these thoughts.  
  
“In truth it is just a rock of ice and fire. Aye, though there is bloodshed to the north and victory for some but defeat for others there as well. I’m sure many are living their destiny or just meeting their end, but not for us here.” He had told Gendry after inspecting a maul that he had requested. It was well crafted, stylized with copper that almost matched the red of Aegon’s hair and it had stylized patterns that looked like lightning bolts. Rather than use Renly’s coin this time he had used his own.  
  
“Beg your pardon, but why don’t you just go?” Gendry had asked and the answer Aegon had bite back was the fact that he had not been ordered by the ‘King’ to do so. At first glance it certainly looked like it was Renly who was in charge but peeling back the truth one would discover that much of the on goings were being handled by a small war council headed by Mace Tyrell, Renly’s Hand.  
  
So, he waited until the council was in session and let himself into their meeting chambers. His intimidating presence was enough to give him the opportunity to speak his plan before they demanded him to leave.  
  
“We should send a vanguard ahead. Ride to where the Gold Road meets the Blackwater Rush south of the Stoney Sept on the border of the Crownlands and Riverlands. There we can dissuade Tywin Lannister from thinking of moving south or sending his foraging parties now that the Young Wolf has cut his supply lines to the Westerlands.” He had told them, it was not really an order but a very forcibly delivered suggestion. After several more moments of stunned silence Mace Tyrell seemed to blow up like a frog and was prepared to say something but Randyll Tarly beat him to it first.  
  
“Do you think you will lead them, boy? Do you expect us to give you command of what? Five thousand, ten thousand or more men and march off with them?” Tarly glared up at him. Since arriving in Highgarden the prickly Tarly had made very clear just how little he thought of his sister ‘playing at being a knight’ and a ‘bastard’ running around his so called ‘betters’. There was little love lost between them.  
  
“I could.” Aegon glared back, “It wouldn’t be just me. I would be happy to be accompanied with a more experienced commander who has not let their spine wither.”  
  
“Now listen here, bastard. This is my house and I am Hand!“ Mace Tyrell looked beat red, but to Aegon’s surprise it was his son Willas seated next to his father that spoke next.  
  
“It would be a sound military move, wouldn’t it, Lord Tarly?” Willas stroked his own chin, “We’ve heard what the Mountain and his men have done to the people of the Riverlands. A show of force would also send a message that King Renly is not to be forgotten.”  
  
“Hmph. Our spied have reported that Stafford Lannister is gathering a force in Lannisport. The Reach and Stormlands together can out-field any such army but it takes time to get them all organized given the distances we are working with.” Tarly eyed him, “A small force could be spared.”  
  
“A raven can be sent to Lord Footly in Tumbleton, to expect guests.” Willas nodded to Aegon and looked to his father.  
  
“…if the Hand of the King obliges.” Aegon asked.  
  
Seemingly pleased that Aegon was showing difference to him, as if he had come to the bargain himself, Mace calmed down and nodded.  
  
“It does please the Hand. I shall let the King know of this endeavor to ensure the upholding of His law and order.”  
  
  
 **Willas**  
  
 **299 AC**  
  
 **Highgarden**  
  
“You were right, Grandmother. Aegon was champing at the bit practically to do – something.” Willas slid into a cushioned seat next to Olenna. It had been several hours after Aegon had left the war council, Father had practically all but forgotten about the intrusion and was already saying HE had thought of the idea all along. Tarly wasn’t happy about that nor Aegon but Willas suspected he was actually happy to see something was being done.  
  
“Aha! Never doubt your grandmother, my dear boy.” Olenna smiled and sipped the tea she had been drinking. It had been a week earlier but she had come to him advising that should Aegon Storm seek to leave Highgarden and confront the Lannisters he should offer his support. “Now, we just need to make sure his sister remains here at Highgarden. Perhaps you should talk with Mace about letting her join that ostentatious ‘Rainbow Guard’ of Renly’s?”  
  
“You want to separate him from his sister?” Willas asked, eyebrow raised.  
  
“Just like me, that boy’s weakness is for his own family. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my family to make sure they are well off. I’d burn this whole castle down.” Olenna set her tea cup down, “You’ve seen him. He could be a great threat to us or a great boon. He has a better head on his shoulders than many too. Killing him would be such a waste, luckily his sister is head over heels infatuated to Renly. As long as she is enamored with that nincompoop there won’t be any bad blood between him and us.”  
  
Willas nodded slowly at Grandmother’s words. He knew she wasn’t overly fond of playing the Game of Thrones as Father had thrust them all into the center camp for one of the contenders of the Iron Throne.  
  
“I don’t think Brienne of Tarth would accept just being handed a position in Renly’s Kingsguard. The idea would likely appeal to him, a woman in the Kingsguard is a rare thing, but he has his finger on the pulse of the lords and ladies enough to know they would not be happy with him just giving the position away.”  
  
“Very well, we can arrange a melee or tourney or something. Whatever will stir the fancy of that Copper-King.” Olenna waved her hand dismissively, “Just make it happen Willas. I do not want Aegon Storm swinging his sword toward our house!”


	8. Aegon Storm III

**Aegon Storm**  
  
 **299 AC**  
  
 **South of the God’s Eye**  
  
Aegon had killed men before.  
  
Even on Tarth there were men desperate or greedy enough to turn to robbing travelers – even the occasional Tyroshi slavers who were bold and blind enough to raid the coastline – but that was rare given the threat of the Iron Throne’s retribution. One time, there had been a rash of missing travelers crossing one of the roads that passed through the mountains the Spine of Tarth. Aegon had ridden out with Father, Brienne and a compliment of guards to investigate the matter at the behest of Ser Edd Rolth, an old lord sworn to Evenfall who had been too infirm to look into the matter himself.  
  
Aegon had been the one to find the dilapidated farmstead that had been nearly reclaimed by the forest growth that grew out from the foothills of the Spine of Tarth. There had been eight men and two boys inside and as soon as he had arrived three had rushed him with knives and pitchforks. Brienne and the rest of the search party had been several dozen yards away so he had been on his own then but his training had kicked in immediately, even though he had been two years of age he was already the size of a youth on the cusp of manhood, and the robbers had been almost painfully slow to him. He still remembered their shocked expressions just before he cut them down in moments.  
  
The rest had surrendered immediately after, as they had shuffled out of the farmstead with their hands held out in surrender Aegon’s heightened senses made it so he could practically smell the desperation on the robbers. They had been dirty and malnourished, their hollow eyes stared out at him with grim acceptance. Behind the farmstead Aegon’s party had found several hastily buried bodies and freshly bought food from the nearest market town. He had pitied them, but they had broken the peace and had blood on their hands so, they all had been executed on the spot – except for the two boys. One man, who had no doubt been their father, had sworn up and down the children had taken no part in the killings – their compatriots had echoed the sentiment. Aegon had known better, he could sense the guilt on the faces of the two boys, but he had not said anything. He had been touched by the sense of comradery and his father had let the boys live.  
  
The event had made him think long and hard about the nature of men. Though the robbers had resulted to murder it had been from desperation. Further, they had acted with nobility to protect their own even on the cusp of meeting the Stranger. He knew of lords and knights who professed devotion to the Warrior but were no better than robbers themselves – even developing a cruel streak based on their highborn status. As a bastard Aegon had already by then been the subject of hushed gossip and slander by men and who would talk behind his back but smile to him and show great courtesy – when Father was with him.  
  
This state put him at unease, but he simply had no easy solution to make any changes to the attitudes of thousands of individuals across Westeros. In he had decided to devote himself to the Warrior as his sister did. Perhaps the Seven, or more likely politics, would present an opportunity for him.  
  
It had been weeks since Aegon and his Storm Warriors had left Highgarden for Tumbleton – the size of his Storm Warriors had undergone a flux when Renly formally announced that he would lead a force to make it clear to the Lannisters that to attack the Reach would be met with the King’s justice. Opportunists that had flocked to his side for the noterity had been torn between staying with Aegon and gaining glory potentially fighting the Lannisters, but also leaving the side of King Renly and the Tyrells where they may gain favor. Some had left to stay in Highgarden but others had come with him, bringing with them their men-at-arms, their servants and what would be a whole camp’s worth of personnel. He had been sad to hear that Brienne had decided to stay in Highgarden but as a consolation he was warmed by the new loyalties of those who had decided to join him.  
  
Officially, Aegon and his force of three hundred Storm Warriors were to be put under the command of Lord Footly who would augment his own levies to watching the border with the Riverlands and cutting off the Gold Road to King’s Landing. However, Lord Footly was old and did not want to leave his castle so instead he put a few of his landed knights sworn to him under command of the three hundred men from his lands. Lord Lorent Caswell was also supposed to join them with men from Bittenbridge but from what Aegon had heard Lord Caswell was in Highgarden and had not ordered anyone sent. So, absent of any of the men who were supposed to officially lead their host Aegon had swiftly taken command himself. Given that they now had a surplus of supplies Aegon had set out from Tumbleton and swiftly taken the bridge over the Blackwater Rush and had fortified it as his main camp. From there Aegon had looked north into the Riverlands where it had become evident Lannister foraging parties were making their way through the region.  
  
In fact, one day Aegon walked out of the treeline along one backwoods road and encountered two dozen men wearing Lannister colors and a cart full of what was more than likely goods looted from locals in the area.  
  
“Surrender. Now.” He ordered them, instead of answering they stared back at him for several long seconds before one of their number spoke up.  
  
“Shit, that’s not the Mountain.” The Lannisterman spoke before he drew his sword, swiftly followed by a dozen more men around him. Aegon rolled his eyes.  
  
“No, I’m not the Mountain. I am Aegon Storm of Tarth and I am a better man than that butcher.” He glared; it was enough to make several halt in their tracks but not all of them. Six still paced toward him with swords and spears at the ready, “Very well, face the Redstar and the Storm that follows.”  
  
He already had his maul in both hands at the ready but he waited for them to charge him instead. They would be using their own energy and strength rushing toward him but more importantly with this many opponent attacking just one man there would be a moment of hesitation among them – a pause as they watched to see who would put themselves at risk to make the first strike. As soon as he saw the closest two men hesitate, keeping an eye on him but also on one another he was already moving. Just as he had all those years ago Aegon saw the surprise in their eyes at the speed he had approached them and had swung his maul up above his head and down onto the closest Lannisterman’s shoulder – driving the pillager to the ground though the true killing blow was the man’s neck snapping from the force of the blow.  
  
Again, it was hesitation that killed the second Lannisterman, a pause as the man watched his comrade’s death, just as much as Aegon’s maul when it slammed through the man’s side. Aegon’s blow had it encountered plate armor would still have shattered his opponent instead of just tearing leather, cloth, bone and meat that pulverized the man’s heart killing the Lannisterman instantly but then again Aegon would have struck with a more power had this man been wearing plate to achieve the same result.  
  
Aegon’s every move was controlled and though his blood did sing in his head he channeled it into the constant flow of calculated, minute judgement as the battlefield changed around him. It was like he was drinking deeply from a cup as he took in EVERYTHING – the ground they all stood on and how it would affect his next strides, the position of the sun and how it obscured their vision or how the temperature was making the Lannisters sweat, the stunned looks of the remaining men and how he could best use their hesitation, and the sound of hoofbeats in the distance which one or two of the Lannisters seemed to notice.  
  
Aegon roared and picked up speed as he strode forward, the act was enough to draw their singular attention back to him. He reached out and grabbed one man by the shoulder and slammed the man’s face into the head of his maul shattering the skull behind the flesh into a bloody ruin. Letting the body go Aegon took his maul in both hands and swung out in a wide arc that took a Lannisterman in the side but also made the body crash into the man standing next to the unfortunate receiver. Leaving the crumpled forms behind him Aegon caught the last of the original six men that had confronted him with a low swing that swept the last man’s legs out from underneath him. Before his opponent could recover from the ground Aegon slammed his steel-clad foot into the man’s neck – snapping it with a horribly audible crunch.  
  
It had so far been less than a minute since Aegon had killed the first man.  
  
Normally engagements between one or more lightly armored opponents versus a man in plate was a much more drawn out affair. It would take several minutes as both sides attempted to use a series of feints to make speedy assaults on one another’s person. Those more lightly armed would attempt to pierce the weak points in the plate mail such as the joints or wait for their opponent to tire, likewise the more heavily armored opponent would need strategy and speed to catch the other with a blow that would be fatal. Aegon had for all purposes annihilated the normal, he could almost taste the sudden drop in will in the remaining Lannisters before several turned to run and the rest were unsure if they should flee or fight. It was then that the source of the earlier hoofbeats Aegon had heard earlier emerged from the tree line – two dozen of his mounted Storm Warriors.  
  
“Ours is the Storm’s Fury!” was echoed from among them alongside chants of “For King Renly” and other personal house mottos. Those who were too slow or too stunned to throw down their arms were killed while the quicker witted who did were apprehended.  
  
“You took your time, didn’t you?” Aegon words were said with a harsh tone but the grin on his lips told all that his feelings were anything but that. Several of the Storm Warriors chuckled or laughed out loud, one rolled his shoulders and waved a hand at him.  
  
“Could you blame us? It was like the Warrior himself strode before us!” Robar Royce laughed as he pounded his fist at empty air in imitation of Aegon’s own swings with his maul. “You were holding out on us from those training bouts!”  
  
He was of two minds about Robar’s choice to stay with the Storm Warriors. On one hand it meant that it was less likely he would be able to court Brienne and it had meant that his position in the Rainbow Guard had gone to the despicable Red Ronnet Connington. On the other hand he thought that Robar was good company and had been a staunch friend since departing Highgarden, in particular helping Aegon walk the courtesy and politics of trueborn nobility among his war camp. He had asked Gendry to keep an eye on Brienne for him and send a message if anything untoward should happen to his sister.  
  
“What should we do with these supplies?” Ser Gerald Gower asked, he was looking through the cart with a furrowed brow, “Our outriders have only found burned out farms for miles around. If there any we can return this to they are hiding or gone far away from here.”  
  
The truth of Gerlad’s words made Aegon frown. Lannister foraging parties were lousy in the area this close to the God’s Eye, from what they had heard from frightened smallfolk that had only emerged after realizing they were not wearing Lannister colors the forces under Tywin Lannister had holed themselves up in the cursed castle of Harrenhal. Just as he had feared Lannister forces were scouring the area for supplies to feed their forces – word was also plenty that Gregor Clegane and his men were butchering anyone they came across. There were also scattered reports of outlaws clashing with the Lannisters but so far, the Storm Warriors had encountered none.  
  
“We are too far north of the Stoney Sept now. Behind every tree there are Lannisters lurking about.” Aegon said, as they entered the Riverlands they had sent some of the supplies westward to the Stoney Sept where many refugees had gathered, “We will take them back to our camp. There are a few holdfasts along the God’s Eye shore, some may still hold out. We will continue with the plan to get to the shores of the lake before we turn back south.”  
  
“Aye, Redstar.” Robar said, the men around him nodded in agreement. One man brought his war horse to him, named Balerion after Aegon the Conqueror’s dragon, the horse was said to have been bought by his Father from the same breeder that sold to the Clegane family. The horse was certainly large and had an aggressive temperament but seemed to respect him enough to not nip at him.  
  
“Follow me then lads! We ride for camp and tomorrow we make for the God’s Eye. I want to stand on the lakeshore when I spit in Tywin’s direction!” Aegon shouted to the wild laughter of his men as they rode off along the road.


	9. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Mountain Crumbles, A Wolf Howls.

**Arya I  
  
299 AC  
  
Village South of God’s Eye**  
  
“Get away from that window! If you know what’s good for you, boy! Listen to me!” All-For-Joffrey cried at her, but she ignored his words. The old man was huddled against a far wall with Hot Pie and the other captives of the Mountain’s Men while she stood on the boxes, she had carefully balanced to look out the barred window. The way she saw it, unless he came and pulled her down, she had no listen to or obey him.  
  
“A-a-ary, maybe you-you should?” Hot Pie’s voice cracked with every other word, fear more than evident, but she ignored the baker’s boy all the same. Arya would not have been locked in the warehouse, Needle would not have been taken from her, and Lommy would not be dead if Hot Pie had not been captured in the first place. It had felt like an eternity since her, Hot Pie, Lommy, and the orphan they called Weasel had left the ruined holdfast where Yoren and the others had died. They had come across the village looking for food but had been discovered and captured. Arya still shivered at the callous way the spearman had killed Lommy.  
  
“Something doesn’t sound right.” The voice that spoke drifted up from the other side of the window – it was one of the Lannister guards that stood outside their impromptu jail.  
  
“Whatever it is Lord Clegane will sort it out, lad. I’ve rode with him for years now, no one can beat him on the battlefield.” Another voice replied and it was one that she recognized enough to make her blood rise. It was the man-at-arms who had stolen Needle from her, she had discovered his name was Polliver from listening to the conversations the bored guards had to pass the time. She had tried to look out and see if he still had Needle, but the window only afforded her a view of the village – it had been built high into the outside wall of the warehouse so miscreants could not easily reach it without notice.  
  
In the distance toward the southern outskirts of the village the sound of battle had wafted to them for some time that morning. It seemed Polliver and his companion had been ordered to stay and make sure the Mountain’s prisoners did not escape during the battle unnoticed while the Lannisters were fighting out of view. The first sounds she had heard that morning was of frantic shouts and of many men moving about.  
  
“Think it’s Dondarrion and his outlaws?” the Young Guard asked.  
  
“Fuckling blood don’t you believe that horse shit that Dondarrion is walking around. I SAW the Mountain kill him. He isn’t going to pop up anytime soon,” Polliver seemed to shuffle as he spoke, “Could be some of his survivors from the ford, could be some uppity Rivermen, could be that Red Bastard of Baratheon’s…”  
  
Baratheon? That made Arya curious. From her time in King’s Landing she knew the dead King Robert’s younger brothers had not bent the knee to that shit Joffrey. Renly had fled south and had apparently rallied the Tyrells to his cause. The city had been utterly on edge with worry of an attack by sea from Stannis’ forces from Dragonstone. Father had supposedly named Stannis the true heir to the Iron Throne – she did not believe a word about what he had said before Joffrey had him executed; they must have made him lie. Had the brothers begun their attack to unseat the Lannister usurpers?  
  
“They say the Bastard of Tarth is a giant, big as the Mountain” the Young Guard said.  
  
“They also say he is four years old!” Polliver sneered and spat, “Just my luck to be left with a boy that believes everything he hears! Do you still believe in grumpkins too?”  
  
“I don’t!” the Young Guard almost wailed before he seemed to compose himself, “I’m just saying that’s what I’ve heard.”  
  
“Sure. Sure.” Polliver’s voice was filled with sarcasm, “Just wait for when the Mountain has the Bastard’s head on a- wait. What’s that?”  
  
The sound of horns echoed out from the direction of the battle, and they were getting closer.  
  
“What-? That’s our call for retreat.” Polliver sounded like he did not believe what he was hearing.  
  
“Look!” the Young Guard shouted.  
  
“Arya saw a stream of men wearing Lannister colors pour into view at an empty space which most likely sufficed as the village square if she had to guess. There were confused and panicked shouts now as clumps of men rushed to reform their ranks while others sped past them to tents and huts emerging with what must have been their looted goods. Then over a dozen riders rode into her view, all wearing the Lannister/Clegane colors, the Mountain himself was among them but something was wrong – Clegane’s armor was rent in places and as he shouted orders there was something in his voice. It took Arya a moment, but she recognized -FEAR- in his voice.  
  
Clegane’s officers lashed out at a few of the running men, pushing others back into a ragged battle line. Clegane himself dismounted his horse and took his massive great sword in both hands.  
  
Next, she heard a sound that made her think of thunder but was soon revealed to be a line of armored men banging on their shields with swords and warhammers. She saw several different personal banners, but she recognized the stag of House Baratheon everywhere. The line of newcomers parted, and she gasped involuntarily, she rubbed her eyes to make sure they were not deceiving her.  
  
“The Seven Hells?” Polliver cursed.  
  
“He-he is a giant! Big as the Mountain! No, perhaps a hand taller even.” The Young Guard gasped out.  
  
It was true. The warrior that stepped forward was larger than the mountain, but there was something else about him – almost as if he exuded a larger presence. In one hand he gripped a heavy hammer that should have taken two to lift while the other was wrapped behind a shield with a sigil that included red stars. His armor was tinted blue, perhaps sapphire, but with red trimmings. On his head was a helmet studded with the antlers of a great stag – in fact many of the warriors behind him wore helmets with smaller faux antlers made of metal.  
  
“Face me Clegane!” the Giant of Tarth’s voice rumbled, “You are a wretch. A craven mad dog who should have faced judgement long ago. Well. Here I am at last! Aegon Storm!”  
  
“Fuck you! I’m stronger than any man, I would break you. Anyone I’ve killed should have been stronger or shouldn’t have fucking gotten in my bloody way!” Clegane snarled, Arya thought he sounded like a cornered dog.  
  
“It is a knight’s duty to defend the weak and innocent. So commands the Warrior! You have done anything but! You could have been a good man, but you chose not to be. In this you are the weakest of all.” The Giant of Tarth replied and took a step forward.  
  
“A knight follows his liege’s orders! Lord Tywin demanded I make the River Lords pay for that stupid, bitch Stark-Tully.” Gregor was pacing now, the men closest to him looked nervous. She knew he was talking about her mother, images of last seeing her flooded Arya’s mind briefly.  
  
“Poor excuses. You can’t blame your vile acts on anyone but yourself! Go to the Seven Hells! Let the work started by Lord Eddard Stark and Beric Dondarrion be fulfilled today!” Aegon stormed forward his hammer raised; the words made Arya think of her father once more, but she shoved those aside – she needed to watch this.  
  
The Mountain bellowed in response and moved forward – shoving three of his men ahead of him into Aegon’s path. It wasn’t a fair fight Clegane wanted, she looked to see if any of Aegon’s warriors would step up to help their champion but to her surprise NONE stepped up to help. Were they as craven as the Mountain’s men? Surely, they knew the danger Aegon would be in fighting four other men?  
  
Before she could ponder this any further Aegon started to kill them.  
  
The Giant of Tarth picked up shocking speed as he shifted to the right most of the Mountain’s men before they could surround him. The hammer swung out and Aegon’s first opponent crashed to the ground – his head a bloody ruin. Not stopping Aegon pivoted and charged on top of the remaining two of the Mountain’s men, a single swipe battered the sword arm of one man aside before the hammer’s hooked end tugged on the same man’s shield. Unbalanced Aegon’s second opponent could do nothing before the Giant of Tarth slammed the edge of his shield into the other man’s neck – even as far away as she was Arya picked up on a loud, sickening crunch when it connected. With just one step Aegon swiped his shield out into the last of the Mountain’s men, thrown to the ground the last man could not recover in time before Aegon pierced his skull with the hammer’s hooked end. Seamlessly Aegon pivoted once more, out of the arc of Gregor’s great sword as it swung down in a high arc.  
  
“FUCK!” Gregor howled in rage as his sword hit nothing and he recovered to step back.  
  
“I thought you would be faster.” Aegon shrugged his broad shoulders.  
  
Gregor just snarled in response and swung again but Aegon actually deflected the blow with his own impressive strength and shield arm then swung his hammer into Gregor’s ribs. The metal dented under the impact; his breath driven from his lungs Gregor wheeled away wheezing in pain. The Mountain swung out with his sword again in several short but quick slashed but Aegon side stepped them all. After one slash brought Gregor too far forward Aegon’s hammer struck again – slamming into Gregor’s shield. The Mountain howled in pain; the blow had been exactly where his arm was strapped into the shield. Arya squinted but it looked like Gregor’s arm had been broken judging by how quickly he wriggled his arm out and even after letting the shield drop his arm hung to the side.  
  
Aegon did not seem to be in the mood to let Gregor recover now because in a moment he was inside of his opponent’s guard – bringing both of his arms up Aegon slammed them down into Gregor’s shoulders forcing the Mountain to his knees.  
  
Aegon reached forward and tore off the kneeling man’s helmet then stepped back from the wailing Gregor Clegane; blood foamed from his lips as he spoke.  
  
“Kill him! What are you standing around for?” Gregor was shrieking now, a pained twitch in one eye as he looked at his own men. None of them moved at his command. They were staring at Aegon with fear.  
  
“You never had any power, Clegane.” Aegon said as he shrugged off his shield and took his hammer in both hands, “You are unworthy of anyone’s loyalty. You have no honor and so you will go to the Seven Hells – alone!”  
  
Gregor appeared to make one last hate filled shout, but it ended the moment the hammer pulverized his head. There was a horrible wrenching of metal, meat, and bone before Gregor’s head left his shoulders. Arya thought she saw one of his eyes pop out of his skull. The Mountain’s headless corpse swayed for a moment longer, his life blood spurting everywhere – Aegon stepped away from the arc of red – before it crashed down in a clamor of metal.  
  
Silence reigned for several, long seconds.  
  
  
“SHIT” Polliver shouted the words, he sounded dumbfounded.  
  
That seemed to break the spell as several things happened at once. Aegon’s men surged forward in a unified shield wall. Those Lannister guards who raised their weapons were overwhelmed and killed, those who did the opposite were disarmed and forced to the ground. Others scattered in all directions. Fleeing from the Mountainslayer. Arya caught a glimpse of Baratheon banners appearing at the village perimeter cutting off escape. Finally, a new voice spoke up from below her window.  
  
“Put down your weapons!”  
  
“SHITshitshit” Polliver cursed, there was the sound of movement and then the door to the warehouse burst open. It was Polliver, he was backing into the building with his sword drawn – like a cornered rat. Around his waist in its sheath Arya spotted Needle.  
  
Without hesitation Arya threw herself wordlessly down from her perch and onto the Lannister murderer. He saw her at the last moment but was surprised enough that he fell over when she hit him with all of her weight. Then she started to scream on top of him, her hands punching and grabbing at him before his arm shoved her off but not before her hands had clasped around Needle’s hilt and pulled her sword free. Rebounding with the training Syrio had taught her she was on her feet before him.  
  
“Not today!” Arya screamed the words as she thrust Needle past Polliver’s sword and into his neck. She was surprised at how easily Needle slid through his flesh, only halting when she felt the tip pierce his spine. She had killed only once before, the stable boy who had wanted to turn her over to Cersei. All she had remembered was Jon’s words and she had killed the boy and left with his dead, accusing eyes staring at her. She had thrust her sword now into the brigand with all the hate and sorrow she had built up over the last months letting loose. She looked him in the eye as he died, and she couldn’t stop herself from screaming again.  
  
Father. Mother. Jon. Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon. Mycah. Syrio. Yoren. Even Lommy. Her family and friends that were dead or lost to her now since she had left Winterfell, since everything had gone from one terror to the next. Hot tears stung her eyes before she heard a noise of footsteps at the door behind her and on the fear and anger that had built up in her she lashed out with Needle, the tip of the blade scratched against a bronze colored shield covered with strange runes.  
  
“What in the name of the Seven-?” the owner of the voice cursed and jumped back as Arya shrieked again and stabbed at his shield again and again. It did not matter to her that it was ineffective she just needed to lash out as all reason fled her. Her blood rose high in her ears.  
  
“Stand back, Robar.” A familiar voice called from outside and the man she had tried to stab retreated hastily. She saw the door suddenly free of obstruction, her freedom was through that door! She scrambled forward into the light outside and looked for a path to run and escape but then a new figure loomed over her.  
  
“You have a sharp tipped blade there.” Aegon said to her, his helmet was removed now, and he stared down at her with his hard, aquiline features.  
  
“Get away from me!” Arya screamed and thrust Needle at a weak point in his armor. He did not move at all, instead he let the tip pierce the gap in the armor and she felt it judder into his flesh. Calmly and slowly, perhaps supernaturally so compared to how she had seen him move before, he pulled Needle from his flesh without a cry or wince of pain and scooped her up to his chest.  
  
“Nooo! Stop! Stop it!” Arya cried out and tried to wriggle free, but his grip was stronger than iron.  
  
“Ssshh. Be calm little one. Be free of your pain.” Aegon said gently to her and placed a hand on the back of her head. After a moment she felt a strange feeling spread throughout her body, it was as if the pain and sorrow she had been feeling was being drawn from her. It was a strange sort of clarity then and it made her cry, not in sadness but in pure exhaustion. Even though Aegon wore several layers of armor she could not help but feel he was warm, and she thought of the hugs from Father. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly placed her on her feet again, inspecting Needle for a moment before he handed it over to her. Wiping her eyes, she nodded in thanks and sheathed it, “What is your name?”  
  
“My name is Arya Stark of House Stark. I am the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.” The words came out of her mouth surprisingly easily, she dimly thought she should have lied maybe call herself Weasel and continue to hide but there was something about Aegon that made her trust him.  
  
This did seem to surprise Aegon who looked her up and down again before he smiled.  
  
“A surprise! I knew you were ferocious, but it seems you are a Wolf Girl.” Then his smile diminished somewhat as he looked to be in sudden thought, he turned to the man she had stabbed at before. “Robar order a raven to be sent to Riverrun. We should let the Starks know.”  
  
“Should we not send another one to Highgarden and King Renly?” Robar replied; the phrase made Arya scrunch up her face. King Renly? Had something happened to Stannis then? Aegon seemed oddly hesitant before he nodded.  
  
“Yes, do so.” He turned back to her, “If we were in a better situation Wolf Girl, I would send you to Riverrun immediately but Tywin Lannister sits between here and there with several thousand men. I also have my wounded and prisoners to escort back south. We will need to be careful, perhaps a meeting can be arranged at the Stoney Sept. Until then I can teach you how to use that sword, if you wish.”  
  
“I already had a teacher in King’s Landing!” Arya puffed up, “His name was Syrio Forel and he was the First Sword of Braavos!”  
  
She paused before she added.  
  
“Wait, but I am a girl. You would teach me how to wield a sword?”  
  
Aegon smiled wryly.  
  
“Of course, I would, I do not see how being a girl stops you from being able to fight! Come, I will tell you of my sister, Brienne…”


End file.
